By Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg. Directed by Laurence Connor and James Powell. At the Princess of Wales Theatre, 300 King St. W. 416-872-1212.

The full depth of the emotional experience that is the new production of Les Misérables made itself felt early on Wednesday’s opening night performance at the Princess of Wales Theatre.

As the prologue came to an end, Ramin Karimloo, making his Toronto debut as Jean Valjean, turned the final note from a beautifully phrased piece of music to a scream of feral agony, and the audience broke into cheers as the prodigal son of this city’s musical theatre world finally came home.

From the beginning, let me say that it’s pointless to debate the differences between the original version of the show and this bold new vision, which directors Laurence Connor and James Powell, working in tandem with designer Matt Kinley, have brought to us.

Inspired by the paintings of Victor Hugo himself, this new staging moves with both tremendous agility and equal force, using all the advantages in technology that have come along in the 25 plus years since the show began.

Time and time again, especially in the complex second act, I found myself gasping in admiration for the images that filled the stage, not just for their own beauty, but for the power that they brought to the story.

Jean Valjean, imprisoned for 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving child, is released into the world only to find that he has become a hardened man — and the people around him are even worse.

The relentless Inspector Javert, a hound of heaven who eventually proves to have sprung from hell, dogs him to every point of call as Valjean struggles to learn who he is and what his purpose on this earth is.

“Who am I?” sings Karimloo over and over with heartbreaking effect, and you eventually come to realize that Valjean is the first existential hero, trying to figure out his place in the world and realizing that a man’s actions determine who he is.

All this comes through with a blazing clarity in this new rendition, thanks to the cast’s almost uniform passion. The good are good in a strong, not wimpy way: witness Samantha Hill’s forthright Cosette, who tries to hold on by her fingernails to the bits of happiness thrown her way.

And I doubt I have ever seen a more morally conflicted Javert that the one Earl Carpenter gives us, leading from seeming certitude to total despair as he realizes he has believed in nothing at all. Brilliant.

The Thérnadiers, symbols of all that is venal, are given a searingly sardonic portrayal at the hands of Cliff Saunders and Lisa Horner, treating their acts of greed, lust and malice with such nonchalance that chill you to the bone.

Melissa O’Neil turns their daughter Éponine into a hollow-eyed bit of collateral damage who can sing with tremendous passion but doesn’t let it conceal the aching emptiness within. She’s devastating

Mark Uhre, as the revolutionary Enjolras, and all his cohorts are totally convincing as young men who want to believe in something, even if it leads them to death.

Only the Fantine of Genevieve Leclerc and the Marius of Perry Sherman seemed removed from the emotional commitment of the rest of the company, singing nicely but not letting us into their souls.

That is not an accusation that could be levelled at Karimloo, who kept redefining passion as the evening went on. It reached its peak in a new approach to “Bring Him Home” in which he didn’t beg God for Marius’s life — he demanded it. Throughout, he was giving his all and making it thrilling.

The spiritual journey here is so strong that the famous line near the end, “To love another person is to see the face of God,” has never registered so strongly.

The first production of this show finds the way to tell a difficult tale superbly. This new version is just as thrilling when it tells us what the tale really means.

And as for Ramin Karimloo, it looks like the prayer of many Torontonians was answered: Bring him home.

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